Until Death Do Us Part
by Rhiannyx
Summary: A murder in the dead of night in Windhelm surely would go unnoticed...if it weren't aimed at one certain individual.
1. The Beginning of the End

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything - all Bethesda...if I did own it, then Brynjolf, Ulfric and Ralof would be marriable :(  
**

**Hope you like the story as much as I like writing it! Hate to ask, but please leave a review - I don't care if you think it's worse than what Alduin throws up, I'd like to know!**

* * *

"Well, well, well, Karia, you never fail to amaze me." The Redguard chortled, looking up as a sweaty, blood-spattered Dunmer ran towards him, her breath heavy and quick.

"Run...can't...speak..." with that, she collapsed onto the floor, panting. When she managed to regain her breath, she pushed herself up and said "I believe that was a new record, Nazir"

Nazir laughed his deep, booming laugh and helped her to her feet. "I think you may be the only person who could say that they managed to eliminate every single person at the Burning of King Olaf festival without anyone realising...and in 5 minutes."

The Dunmer shrugged, her mouth curling into a slight smile. She drew a dagger, glistening with blood, from its hilt and wiped it on her leather cuirass. "I like your disguise. Very subtle."

The Redguard looked down at his costume. "Well, I was only dressing for the occasion. Everyone knows the tale of Olaf and the Dragon..."

Karia raised her eyebrows and then reached out and poked his wings. "So are we flying back to the Sanctuary?"

"Ah, now, see...I'm a very special type of dragon...one that can't fly."

Karia rolled her eyes. "Oh, how ferocious! If only I'd been fighting ones like that..."

"By Sithis, spare me the tale. If I had a septim for every time I've heard about your slaying of Alduin, I'd...well, have a lot of septims." His smile faded a little as she gave him a cold glare, but then he snorted. "Oh no, Dragonborn, please don't Shout at me! I'm just an innocent little Redguard..."

"That'd be easier to believe if you weren't dressed up in a child's costume."

"This isn't a child's costume. Babette made it for me."

"I rest my case."

The air of Solitude was tainted with blood.

* * *

The Falkreath Sanctuary filled with a tumult of applause and cheers as they entered, mainly from Cicero. He danced around the Night Mother's coffin, waving what looked like a severed rabbit's head. He began some strange caterwauling, that Karia presumed was singing.

"**Oh, the sweet Dunmer maiden of Vvardenfell,  
She slew dragons and dragons and more dragons as well,  
But deep down inside,  
Was her secret disguise,  
Her blade yearned for innocent lives to quell!"**

Karia grimaced slightly. "Er...thank you, Cicero. That was..lovely."

Astrid approached them, a smile twitching at her mouth for the first time in many years. "I must say, you did well, Karia."

The dark elf smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was thinking of Cicero's song...she _had _once been a dragon slayer. She had been a brave and noble warrior, an honourable member of the Companions, loved and revered by almost all of Skyrim...but those days were over. She never spoke of what turned her to the life of the Dark Brotherhood...and she never would.

Everyone believed the Dragonborn to be dead. Karia felt she was. She couldn't bear the title of someone who was believed the symbol of goodness and hope. Her past life was over, gone with the belief of her demise, and with the Dragonborn had gone the eternal love everyone had for her.

So she'd had to take up a disguise. No longer could she live by her real name, the name everyone knew. The name she never spoke.

Did she regret it? No. This was her home. She may have once been "destined" to save Skyrim, and she had. Now, she was living how she wanted. She'd never been a hero. People had just fooled themselves into believing she was. And she'd let them...just showed how weak and foolish people were...though they did bleed very nicely.

Astrid made to speak again, but caught sight of Nazir and was momentarily distracted. He was still trying to fit through the doorway. Evidently, his wings had got stuck. "Anyway...Karia, dear, I'm afraid there's little time to rest. The Black Sacrament has been performed...and I wish to give you the honour of this contract."

"Who do I have to kill?"

"Ulfric Stormcloak."

An awful silence rang through the Sanctuary. Even Cicero stopped dancing to stare at Astrid. Karia couldn't form words in her mouth. Suddenly, Nazir toppled through the doorway and, with a loud crash, fell to the floor. He didn't stop there...he rolled down the slope and straight into the lake.

By the time Nazir had been rescued, Karia felt herself able to laugh again. She turned to Astrid, and nodded. "It will be an honour. But...who asked for him to be killed?"

Astrid gave her a look that was empty and unfeeling. "I don't know."

Somehow, it sounded like a lie.


	2. Sithis Say What?

"Now, no one can know who you really are. The Dragonborn is no longer you, as you are so keen to always remind me. You are a Dunmer refugee. You can still call yourself Karia, as it's not your real name." Astrid gave her a slightly disapproving look.

"As you probably realised, you have to go incognito." Festus Krex reached out his gnarled fingers and pulled off Karia's gloves. "So for Sithis' sake, don't wear your hood."

Babette scurried about, followed by a rather haggard looking Gabriella. The former's arms were laden with clothes, which she then presented to Karia. Astrid rolled her eyes. "She's hardly going to look the part of a fearsome 'daughter of Skyrim' if she's wearing...these." She held up what looked more like a strip of cloth than an actual dress. "Arnbjorn, get her some decent armour...leather or something."

"Wait, leather?" Karia interjected. "Can't I at least have glass or something...?"

"You need to blend in, not look like a greenhouse."

"Elven, at least!"

"No."

Karia stuck her tongue out at Astrid as she turned away, making Babette giggle.

Once she had been suited up in the oh-so-boring leather armour, she gave a half-hearted smile. "Well...guess I'll see you all soon."

"Sithis be with you, sister." Veezara hissed in his quiet voice. The others all bade her good luck, and then Karia turned and left, wondering if she would ever see them all again. She'd never had a family, and now she did...something made her feel that soon she would lose them too.

* * *

It was a long journey to Windhelm. Her horse staggered slightly over the harsh terrain, but Karia willed him to move forward. The bitter chill of Eastmarch crept into her veins, a twisted hand of cold that ensnared her insides. Kill Ulfric Stormcloak..._kill Ulfric Stormcloak_! How could she do it? She'd never be able to pull it off.

The plan sounded easier said than done. It wouldn't be hard to join up with the Stormcloaks, nor to gain Ulfric's trust...but murdering him would be almost impossible.

Before her rose the ominous and uninviting charcoal stone walls of Windhelm, far sooner than she'd hoped. After she reined her horse into the stable, she slowly walked towards the imposing gate that stood between her and her old "home". She remembered as if it were yesterday those cold and merciless alleys she had to sleep down, where Nords would walk past, spitting and kicking her. She still remembered how Ulfric treated her kind. Blood boiled in her heart, and like lava erupting from a volcano, anger spewed inside her. She was glad she got to kill him.

"Not another elf." Came a cynical voice from beside her. She turned to see a guard glaring at her. "We don't need any more of your kind polluting the streets. Go back to Morrowind."

Karia's fingers itched for the hilt of her dagger, but she stopped herself. She'd go back to Morrowind only in a coffin. Then again, there was no Morrowind to go back to. That was no sadness to her.

The Palace of the Kings grew before her eyes, and soon she was ascending the steps. The guard made a move to stop her entering, but his eyes fell on the two daggers at her hilt and the bow slung on her back and he withdrew.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak sat lounging on his throne, passing a few words with Galmar, when he heard the front doors of the hall open and a Dunmer entered. He sat up straighter, watching this newcomer walk fearlessly up to him. He guessed, from the slight figure, it was a female, but the helmet over their face couldn't confirm this. He turned to his steward, Jorleif, and said angrily. "Are all of the dark elf filth now given free rein to my castle?"

Karia took a sharp breath, willing herself not to carry out the contract there and then. She waited until Ulfric had looked at her then fixed him with a steely gaze. "I wish to join the Stormcloaks."

He gave a deep laugh. "_You _wish to join the Stormcloaks? I'd much rather let Galmar's dog."

"I have just as much reason to want to fight the Empire as you."

"Can you even hold a weapon, girl?"

A small smile twisted the sides of Karia's mouth. For a second, she simply stood there, then in the blink of an eye pulled the bow from her back, nocked an arrow, wheeled around and fired at the dummy on the other side of the hall. The arrow flew through the air before impaling the dummy straight in the centre of the target.

Ulfric did his best to hide his awe. "Lucky shot."

Karia gave an incredulous laugh, pulled both her daggers from their scabbards and hurled them at Ulfric. They landed either side of his head, piercing the throne. He looked extremely disconcerted. Jorleif seemed to be clutching his heart – evidently, he'd thought Karia was trying to make Ulfric into a kebab. She hadn't been, though. His death would be far more...interesting.

"I'm still not convinced." Ulfric was, but he was extremely interested in this strange dark elf. She intrigued him, much more than the usual barbaric Nords who wandered in, wielding their warhammers and showing off just how "Nord" they were with their usual "Me smash Imperial skulls" demonstration.

Karia wasn't known for having a gentle temper, which she proved now. She felt anger boil inside her, and her mouth opened to do something she hadn't in a long time: a Thu'um. But then she froze. She couldn't ever let show who she really was. Instead, she felt the burning loathing in her heart course through her arms to her hands, where two blazing balls of fire erupted. She launched these at the banners above Ulfric's head, which were consumed in lapping tongues of flame. Everyone in the hall made a move to unsheathe their weapons, but as quickly as she'd produced the fire, Karia quenched it. The banners looked unharmed.

"You have a spirit I haven't seen for a long time." Ulfric said slowly, never taking his eyes of the dark elf before him. "It would be my honour to let you join the Stormcloaks."

Karia didn't thank him. She merely inclined her head then turned on her heel. When she'd almost reached the door, Ulfric called out "Wait! I never caught your name."

Karia turned back to him. "That's because I never said it. Good day."


	3. The Art of War

Ulfric awoke the next morning from a fitful sleep. The strange Dunmer seemed branded on his mind. He'd never even glimpsed her face, yet he felt himself longing to see her again. When he gathered his troops before his castle, he searched the crowd for her, but she must have been lost among the throng.

In truth, Karia was actually standing hidden around the corner, watching as he gave out orders to the Stormcloaks, seeing these unknown men and women who were willing to lay down their lives for the cruel bastard that was Ulfric Stormcloak.

However, Ulfric's never stopped looking for her, and eventually he saw the bright red eyes peering around the corner. When all of his troops had dispersed, he walked down the front steps in the direction of Candlehearth Hall.

Karia watched him pass her, retreating slightly further down the dark alley, sure he hadn't noticed her.

"Did you think you were invisible?" A husky voice whispered in her ear. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she spun round to see Ulfric standing behind her. Something was burning in his eyes, but she couldn't tell what. It was almost like...desire.

"Wha- how..." she gasped, her pulse racing as he drew closer to her.

"I know these streets well." He was close to her now...too close. She could feel his breath against her skin.

She stepped away, but her back collided with the wall. Then she remembered she wasn't wearing her helmet. She couldn't let him see her face...

"What are my orders? I can't leave them out there getting all the glory..." She mumbled, words hardly forming in her mouth.

"Why not take some time off today? I'm sure Galmar can manage without you." Ulfric was bearing upon her, like a hawk on its prey. She wondered if it were just that.

"No, really." She said, her voice shaking slightly. Ulfric looked down into her eyes, and saw something he hadn't seen in them before: fear. He stepped back and murmured. "You'll probably be needed on the Whiterun front line. I'll join you for the attack." And he turned and walked away.

Karia was left standing in the shadows, her mind barely able to function with the whirl of thoughts that plagued it. What had just happened? Perhaps that had just been to test her courage. She could understand. If they were attacking Whiterun, that wouldn't be easy...

Then something struck her. Whiterun. Home of the Companions...

* * *

When she arrived at the Whiterun camp, the city that had once been familiar was now ablaze. Catapults hurled balls of fire at the walls, which crumbled beneath them. Galmar ran up to her. "You, new girl, I want you up there with Ralof. He's the blond Nord. You two must press the attack, got it? Use whatever you want, daggers, arrows, magic, whatever it takes. You need to lower the drawbridge."

Ralof? She remembered that name from all those years ago in Helgen. He'd helped her escape, and said that he thought she should join the Stormcloaks. Well, she had kind of fulfilled her agreement...but not for the best reasons.

Ulfric, it seemed, had beaten her there, for he stood in the camp already, yelling at the Stormcloaks before him. They had their weapons raised – they were ready for battle. He saw her coming up the path, and a fire was ignited in him.

She, however, saw him and felt nothing but bitter resentment. Ralof approached her. "Hey, I'm Ralof, Galmar told me we're working together?"

Karia forced a smile. "I'm...I'm Karia." The lie still didn't feel right.

"Good luck with this. It's going to be great!"

She saw the enthusiasm that burned inside him, and wondered why. Why would anyone want to give up their lives for this meaningless cause? It was all Ulfric's fault.

The troops surged through the gates, and the Imperials that met them were no match. Swords and axes flashed as they danced through the air, slicing through the foes that met them. Ralof and Karia pushed through the battle, racing towards the levers that would lower the drawbridge. But the steps that led up had been broken and were now flaming kindling.

"This way!" Karia yelled over the yells of fighters and the roar of flames. She remembered another way up. If she was going to pull off this act, she would have to make it seem like she cared about this battle. And if she could get there soon, she could prevent more innocent lives being lost...

The drawbridge fell as she heaved the lever, and soon Galmar and Ulfric were racing towards the Whiterun gates, cutting down the guards as easily as if they were butter. Karia ran after them, having lost Ralof in the heat of the battle.

Inside, the deafening sounds of war thundered on. Karia dashed ahead, breaking through the barricades to cut the path up to Dragonsreach. Up the steps they charged, across the bridge and through the doors...

* * *

The sounds of battle died. Ulfric and Galmar walked ahead of her, towards the Jarl's throne. Balgruuf rose to his feet. "So, do you come to seek my surrender? You may have slain my fighters, but only over my dead body will you take my hold from me!"

"That can be arranged!" Said Galmar, and before Ulfric could stop him, he swung his axe and cut a deep wound through Balgruuf. The Jarl of Whiterun fell to his knees, but then spat at Ulfric's feet.

"You would ruin Skyrim just so you can have power, Ulfric? We all know you don't care for any of your people; you just want to be High King. Well, you will never truly be High King. You are a murderer, Ulfric, and people will one day realise that. There will be no more blood spilled today. Stop fighting. I surrender."

Ulfric gave Balgruuf a look of disgust then motioned to Galmar to seize him, Irileth and Proventus. The front doors opened, and a familiar face entered.

Karia barely stifled a gasp, and forced her helmet even further down over her face. Vignar Gray-Mane. He'd known her well when she fought for the Companions. Surely he, if no one else, would recognise her...

"Gray-Mane." Balgruuf gasped, a look of betrayal on his face. "So this was what you were planning all this time?"

"This is nothing to do with you, Balgruuf. These people need a leader if Whiterun is ever to be rebuilt." Vignar walked towards them, and Karia drew back slightly. His eyes were fixed on Balgruuf, fortunately.

"Galmar, it's time to leave. You too, elf." Ulfric nodded at Karia then led Galmar out the hall. As Karia passed Vignar, he looked right at her, and something in his face changed. She quickly looked away, but could feel his eyes burning into her as she hurried out.


	4. The Art of Love

The celebrations in Windhelm lasted a long time. Though many mourned the deceased, they were more inclined to drink to their victory. Ralof, who Karia realised wasn't perhaps one of the brightest, came running up to her. "We did it! All thanks to you!" He then pulled her into a bear-hug, and the laugh that came out her mouth then was the first real one in a long time.

Ulfric, to no surprise, was enjoying the attention. He sat in a lordly manner on his throne, clearly believing himself to be greater than all of the others there. The Stormcloaks danced and sung, and a lot of mead was consumed, but Ulfric himself never joined in. Karia looked up from her flagon to see him staring out over the crowd, his brow furrowed. She would have wondered what he was doing, if Ralof hadn't chosen that moment to drop his soup all over her.

After a few hours, Karia began to feel dizzy. She hadn't drunk much, but this act was becoming hard to keep up. She vowed that tonight would be the night that she fulfilled the contract. She couldn't carry on any longer. She looked up at Ulfric, and her thoughts went out to all the Dunmer that were shunned in the Gray Quarter of Windhelm. For the first time ever, she actually wanted to kill someone.

It came as a relief to step outside for a bit, but her solitude was short lived. She heard footsteps coming up behind her, but it was only Ralof. "Karia..." He said slowly. "What would you say if I told you that you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen?"

"I would say you've drunk too much. Especially since you've only ever seen me with my helmet on." Karia replied, laughing. But Ralof didn't smile.

"I'm not joking, and I'm not drunk." He reached out and, before she could move to stop him, pulled her helmet off.

Karia gasped. He had known the old her...he would surely recognise her. But she saw that he wobbled slightly. He _was_ drunk. Ralof ran his hand through her long, dark hair. "You are beautiful."

She realised he wouldn't be dissuaded, not in this state, so she decided to humour him. "And you are handsome."

Next thing she knew, he had pushed her against the wall and his lips were on hers. They were fierce and crushing. Karia tried to pull away, but he was far stronger than her. His tough arms held her down, and Karia realised she didn't want to fight.

What she didn't realise was that someone was watching her. She hadn't slipped out unnoticed. A man had followed her, in the hope of finally speaking to her, only to see her intertwined with Ralof. Ulfric Stormcloak stood at the doors of the Palace of the Kings, and jealously grew, a twisted and vicious monster, inside him.

Karia was blissfully unaware, and she sunk into Ralof's arms. It felt right, somehow.

* * *

Night had properly fallen by the time the festivities ended. Karia's lips still tingled with Ralof's kiss, but she had to focus her mind on the task at hand. Everyone was in bed, but she was awake – creeping past the bedchambers of all of the castle's inhabitants, until she reached the one at the end.

However, Ulfric was not asleep. She heard his voice, a menacing whisper. The reply that came was nervous. She recognised the voice. It was...Ralof!

She stopped and listened.

"Is it true, then, that you have been spying for the Imperials?" That was Ulfric.

"No, Jarl, I swear!"

"I trusted you, Ralof. How dare you go against my trust! I found this letter in the hands of a courier. Would you like me to read it?"

"What are you talking about? I never wrote a le-"

Ulfric cleared his throat loudly. "'General Tullius, after the victory at Whiterun, Ulfric has his sights set on claiming Falkreath. I should also warn you that they have in their midst a face you may recognise well...' and it's signed Ralof. Who is this person you mention?"

"I don't know!" Ralof's voice was pleading.

"Is it her? Do you know something about her? Is she who I think she is?"

Karia's heart stopped. They knew. _They knew. _She had no time to waste. She had to leave here...but the contract had to be completed.

"Go, Ralof. And don't come back." The door beside Karia was wrenched open, and she quickly dived behind it. She watched the retreating figure of the blond Nord until it disappeared. She longed to go after him...but if it were true, then he was a traitor...and he knew who she was.

Ulfric had turned away from the door, and she chose this moment to slip inside his room. It had to be done then. She waited until he had climbed into bed, and his breathing slowed.

He looked...different. His face was no longer creased and heavy, but relaxed. He wasn't wearing his heavy armour either, he'd removed it (Karia closing her eyes as he did so) before he got into bed, wearing now only a loincloth. All his pretences were gone. And that thought stayed her blade. For long enough...

She raised her dagger to plunge it into his heart, but then Ulfric opened his eyes. She didn't have time to retreat. He looked right into her eyes. "Am I dreaming?"

Karia could barely breathe. "Yes. You are."

"Why are you holding a dagger?" His voice was husky and quiet, much unlike his usual one.

"Well, it's your dream...if you don't want me to be, I won't be." And she sheathed her weapon. She just had to get him to fall back asleep...

But he was getting to his feet. "If this is a dream...then I don't want it to end" A shaft of moonlight trickled through the window, bathing them both in a silvery glow. Karia realised that once again, she'd forgotten to put on her helmet. Her eyes were distracted though...the light illuminated the muscular contours of Ulfric's body, and left her momentarily breathless.

He reached out one of his heavy hands, but his touch on her cheek was gentle. "You are more beautiful than I imagined. If only I could tell you in real life."

Karia tried to step back, but she found panic had her rooted to the spot, as if vines had entwined themselves round her feet. He may think he was dreaming, but this was very real to her. And this was wrong...

But she didn't stop him as Ulfric stepped closer to her. Her dark eyes were locked on his pale ones, and she didn't resist as he lifted her chin up.

She could feel his breath against her neck as his lips trailed up her throat. She could hear his slightly jagged breathing as his teeth grazed her ear. Her heart hammered like a wild drum as his mouth stroked along her jaw line then stopped just before her lips. He had her gaze held, unblinking.

Very slowly, he lifted her face to his and then pressed his mouth to hers.

Karia had never imagined, in her wildest dreams, what would happen next. A fierce spark, like a feral bolt of lightning, coursed through her veins. Stronger than anything she'd ever felt. She couldn't breathe. Her pulse was racing.

Ulfric's hands were at her armour, tearing apart the straps that held it. Part of her screamed that it was wrong, that she had to stop him...but she was possessed. All she could feel was his warm body against her bare flesh, pushing her down onto the bed. His nails pressing into the skin of her back as he pulled her even closer to him...

And she let herself succumb to her heart.


	5. Love is a Cruel Thing

Karia woke with a start. Cold tore at her bare legs, but her naked torso was oddly warm. She tried to move, but something heavy, like a boulder, constricted her. Don't be stupid, she thought, why on Oblivion would there be a boulder on you? But when she looked down, she realised she would rather it had been a boulder. An arm was wrapped over her, inches from her exposed chest. Ulfric's arm. She took a wild guess that the thing pressed up against her also probably wasn't a boulder.

Slowly, very slowly, she wriggled herself free from his oppressing grasp. Wincing as the floorboards creaked, she stood up, watching his arms try to close around the air. Struck by an idea, she grabbed his thick fur cloak off the ground and stuffed it between his crushing grip. It seemed to work. Well, it would buy her some time, at least.

Her heart a deafening concerto in her ears, she pulled on her armour, trying to force away the images that crawled cunningly into her mind. "Right," she thought determinedly. "Think of nice things...bunnies! Flowers! Er...sausages! NO, NOT SAUSAGES!" Then she ran her fingers through her hair agitatedly. "Great, talking to yourself now."

As she buckled up her boots, her eyes fell on something. A pile of papers littered Ulfric's desk, and beside one was a quill, its nib still glistening with ink. Beside it, casted carelessly aside, were several balls of crumpled up parchment. A thought, sharp and unpleasant as an electric shock, mutated in her mind. The letter from "Ralof"...could it be?

Cautiously, she crept towards the desk, her hand stretching out to one of the discarded pieces of parchment. Her fingers brushed against its coarse edge...

A thunderous grunt filled the room. Karia froze.

Ulfric slowly opened his eyes.

* * *

Something was wrong. Since when had Karia's body been that hairy? As he recalled, her skin was as smooth and soft as silk. His pants strained slightly as his mind wandered briefly back to the night before...but then his eyes fell, not on her slight body between his arms, but what he was pretty sure was an animal! He barely stifled a yell. Had he been so drunk that he'd mistakenly bedded not the beautiful dark elf, but a Khajiit?

Shaking himself, he sat up. The cloak in his arms slid to the floor, and he realised what it was. Well, he'd been close. Staring around wildly for her, it suddenly hit him. Last night had been a dream. A spine-tingling dream...but still a dream.

* * *

Karia's feet pounded against the forest floor. Mud and shards of wood flew out of their lodgings as she raced through the trees, weaving between them as easily as if they didn't exist. But she felt their branches lash out at her as she disrupted their peaceful slumber, tearing at her armour. Yet she kept running.


	6. What the Night Hides

There was silence all around the wilds of Skyrim. Not a bird sung nor an animal shifted. All that disturbed the still air was the uneven hammering of feet falling against rough earth, and heavy gasps of breath.

But then...the trees began to whisper. Karia heard, almost silent, as if spoken by the very wind itself "Ka-ria." She stopped.

The leaved sentinels began to close in.

"Karia." They chanted in unison, their voices rising in a crescendo. She staggered backwards, watching the obsidian darkness growing rapidly before her eyes. Her foot caught on a rogue root, and she plummeted to the ground, her hands flying out to catch her before she landed. Pain seared blindingly in her arm, but she ignored it. Mustering all her strength, she pushed herself away from the nearing trees, who leered down at her, brandishing their claw-like branches.

"KARIA!" The voice was inside her head, more terrible than before. It rang through every inch of her mind, echoing eerily within the cavernous depths of her ears. She heaved herself to her feet, turning on her heel and running, but her body seemed locked in place. No matter how hard she struggled, she moved not an inch. Then, gnarled hands grasped her body and pulled her back into the endless abyss of darkness...

"You know who I am, Karia. You know why I speak to you. Your soul is mine. Break the last thread that links you to this mortal life then join me for eternity in the Void. Do so, or face the wrath of Sithis."


	7. Stabbed in the Back

Everything fell into nothing...and nothing became everything. Her body was slumped against the forest floor...except there was no forest. A few neglected trees stood wilting, but that was all. The tundra of Eastmarch was bitter beneath her skin. Yet her arm still burned with pain. Turning, she saw the great walls of Windhelm impaling the horizon. She had to keep running. Scrambling to her feet, slipping slightly on the ice, she kicked off, snow spraying behind her. The words of the Dread Father resonated in her ears. Break the last thread...but what was the last thread? And what if she didn't want to?

What was she running from? She didn't even know. No one could run from Sithis. He was everywhere and nowhere, as visible yet invisible as the night.

She stumbled over the harsh terrain, and remembered her horse that she'd left behind in her race to escape. It was too late now though – she couldn't turn back. Someone would realise she was missing...but that wasn't what she was scared of. She was scared of the thing that pounded frantically against her ribs. She was scared of her own heart.

As the snow wasted away into the barren lands of Whiterun, she almost sighed with relief...until she realised that it didn't matter how much she ran. The thought made her crumple to the ground, feeling weaker than ever.

"Hello, Lili." A dagger curled around her throat.

* * *

"Long time, no see." The blade pressed against her chin and forced her to her feet. Slowly, a figure moved around her, stopping before her eyes.

Ragged clothes hung against his body. Matted brown hair fell around a face she knew well. She recognised that leering smile that played on his lips as if it were yesterday.

Her lungs constricted. She was barely audible as she gasped: "Sibbi."

"Surprised to see me?" He clamped his free hand down on her shoulder.

"You were in jail."

"I escaped. We have...unfinished business. I was so long in that cell that I've forgotten what the touch of a woman feels like." His eyes raked hungrily down her body.

"You will never touch me." She spat in his face.

"Oh, really? You're not in much of a position to stop me." A blazing pain branded her skin as the dagger ripped slightly through her flesh.

"You're a murderer."

"No." His sneer widened. "_You_ are a murderer. Come now, Lili. I'm not a dragon. I won't bite."

Karia let out a strangled sob. "Don't you remember what you did?"

"Don't you remember what _you_ did?"

"I loved him. You will never know what that's like!"

"If you loved him, why did you kill him? You made me waste away in that prison for what you did. And now, my time has come for revenge." His hands slid beneath her armour, trailing across her skin. Her pulse accelerated like a bird at a gunshot.

* * *

_The evening sun was settling over Riften. The streets were teeming with herds of eager onlookers as the Dunmer entered through the great gates. Her scarlet eyes glowed with joy as the people surrounding cried "Hail, Lili! Hail, the Dragonborn!"_

_Hemming Black-Briar rolled his eyes and said loudly "So this girl killed a few dragons? Looks like a milk-drinker to me."_

_A small smile appeared on the dark elf's face as she heard him. "It's only Khajiit that drink milk. I'm no cat. If you want me to prove it, go ahead and get a ball of string – watch me not chase it."_

_Hemming raised his eyebrows, surprised at being addressed in such a way by an elf. Clearly, she didn't know who he was. Annoyed, he opened his mouth to impress upon her his superiority, but she pressed one of her long, thin fingers to his lips, her grin widening. "Save it for someone who cares."_

_The euphoria of the Dovahkiin's presence in the Rift lasted a long time. Hemming only saw Karia when she was surrounded by crowds. However, one night, he saw her sitting alone at the bar of the Bee and Barb. Cautiously, he approached her._

"_Doesn't it get annoying?" He asked, sliding into the seat beside her. She gave a start, her face flooding with colour, and then laughed._

"_They're just grateful. I would be too, if I were in their shoes. Though probably not your shoes, they're a bit big."_

"_Do you know who you're talking to?" He didn't say it as if he were annoyed, more incredulous that anyone could be so outspoken._

"_Well, though I'm sure you'd love to tell me, I think the highly expensive clothes and obnoxious drawl give it away. Let me guess, you're Queen Barenziah?"_

_He stared at her for a second then erupted into hysterical laughter. Karia's eyes widened in surprise and she seemed to be biting her lip to stop herself from giggling. When he had calmed down, he wiped his eyes and said "Can I get you a drink?"_

"_Sure, I'll have some milk." She smiled innocently._

* * *

_A month later, Karia and Hemming sat at the long dining table in the Black-Briar Manor. Maven sat drumming her fingers on the wood, her eyes flitting from her son to the dark elf. Beneath the table, Karia's shaking hand locked with Hemming's. The Amulet of Mara beneath her dress seemed to tighten slightly around her neck. Ingun sat beside her mother, looking rather lost. Sibbi sat at the end, his eyes feasting on Karia._

"_Mother..." Hemming cleared his throat. "We've decided to get married."_

_Maven raised her eyebrows. "And why would you do that?"_

"_Well...we love each other." _

_The woman narrowed her eyes in thought. Despite her non-existent love for elves, it would certainly be beneficial to have ties to probably the most powerful person in Skyrim, excepting herself. She just hoped the grand-children wouldn't turn out stripy. "Then you have my full blessing."_

_Hemming heaved a sigh of relief and turned to his brother. "Sibbi?"_

_Sibbi gave a start, his face flooding with colour as his gaze was pulled away from the Dunmer. "Yes?"_

"_You'll be my best man, won't you?"_

"_Oh...certainly." A small smile twisted his mouth._

* * *

"_Hemming doesn't have to know." Sibbi's breath tingled in her ear. Karia fought against the ropes tied around her hands. _

"_Never!" She hissed, trying to pull away from his crushing grip. He raised his hand and struck her across the cheek. The skin flared a burning red._

"_Bitch!" He cried, pulling her face towards him. "You will do what I tell you."_

"_No, I won't."_

"_You don't have a choice." His hands outstretched, nearing her chest._

"_FUS RO DAH!" The Shout erupted from her mouth, sending the Nord flying backwards. Karia wrenched her arms free from the ropes that tied her to the bed, wincing as they chafed her skin. Sibbi was starting to clamber back to his feet, but she darted out the room before he could._

_She gabbled a rushed explanation to Hemming, knowing that Sibbi would be hot on her heels. Hemming pushed her behind him as the door slowly creaked open..._

"_Now, now, brother, no need to act rashly." Sibbi sneered, approaching him._

"_I'm warning you, stay away from her!" _

"_Why? She shouldn't be yours. That whore is mine!" From the rack nearby Sibbi seized a sword._

_Karia acted without thinking. The dagger, hidden beneath her sleeve, was in her hand, and she whispered in Hemming's ear "I'm sorry." before running the blade through his back._

_The motionless body of the man she loved slumped to the floor. Sibbi had barely raised his own weapon before his brother was struck down in front of his eyes. Blood oozed down Karia's clothes from her soaked hands. A tear slid down her cheek. _

_As Sibbi advanced, rage boiled inside her and she raised her fist and grabbed his neck, forcing him to the ground. She heard a satisfying crunch as he landed. Then she threw her dagger beside his unconscious body and fled. No one would know it was her._


	8. Pray to your Gods

"It's not your turn for revenge. It's my turn. Do you know what you've done to me?" She grabbed his hand just as it neared her chest. Her nails dug into his skin.

"You were the one who killed him." He thrust the dagger against the bottom of her chin with more force, making her eyes meet his.

"To stop you from doing it! I wanted him to go with as little pain as possible."

"Aren't you glad that you did? Or don't your new 'family' like you?"

Karia's eyes widened in alarm. "Wh-...how did you...?"

"You're not the only one who's allowed to have friends, my dear Lili."

Karia, quick as a flash, ducked away from the blade and stood right before Sibbi, grabbing his shirt in a vice-like grip and pulling his face inches from hers. Despite being far taller than her, he shrank beneath her murderous glare. "You're lying. Now, get lost. You've cost me everything."

Sibbi gave a mirthless laugh. "You do realise they lied to you, don't you? And they're really not that happy with you...they know what you've done."

"How do you know any of this?" Her face was contorted with fury.

"I think you'll find out very, very soon. They're watching you...Karia." With a final, vindictive smirk he wrenched himself from her grasp and backed away, his eyes still on her.

She stood, fear rooting her to the spot. "Sibbi!" She cried, her voice cracking, but he was gone. She took a deep breath. She knew what she had to do.

* * *

Ulfric paced up and down before his throne, yelling at seemingly nobody in particular. "Where has she gone? Are you sure you've looked everywhere? Even down in the Gray Quarter?"

"Yes, my lord, she's not –" A boy, hardly old enough to hold a sword, stood trembling in his Stormcloak attire.

"Quiet!" The Jarl of Windhelm bellowed, slumping onto the cold stone throne, a stray lock of his dark blond hair flopping across his face, making desperate leaps for freedom each time he exhaled heavily. He leaned his head on his hand, propped up against the arm of the seat.

"My lord," The boy held out a piece of paper, nearly dropping it as his fingers shook. "This just came in. It's addressed to someone called Karia."

Ulfric turned to Galmar, who stood, looking a little lost – the expression was quite humorous. Despite being clad in heavy furs, he looked rather like a rabbit caught in torch-light. "Karia? Isn't that what that elf was called? I think I heard Ralof talking to her..."

"Don't mention that traitor." Ulfric spat, grabbing the letter and ripping it open. His eyes fell on the name scrawled at the bottom. "Speak of the devil." His eyes scanned the hastily-scribbled message. "He says to meet him at Dawnstar..." he squinted. "I can't read the next word. Looks like sanctum, but I can't be sure. This seems to be a map."

Galmar took the letter. "You don't think...they could both be spying for the Imperials? I never really understood why an elf would want to join us."

Ulfric's head snapped up. "She wouldn't."

"You can't be sure. We should send some men out to scout the area. If Ralof turns up, we will make the traitor pay. If Karia turns up...she'd better have a damn good explanation."

Ulfric sighed deeply. "If this is a waste of my men, Galmar –"

"If the Imperials get wind of what we're doing, our chances our severed. It'll only take three or four men – Ralof is only one man."

"Let's just hope we can stop Tullius before he gets wind of anything particularly foul smelling." Ulfric turned his head back to the boy. "Go and tell Yrsarald to get some men ready to set off for Dawnstar this hour."

* * *

"How much further?" One of the Stormcloaks asked, tightening his grip slightly on his horse's rein.

"Not much." Another replied, coaxing his steed on. The bitter chill of Dawnstar was cruel, and the four men thought longingly of the warm flagons of mead and comfortable beds back home. But, they would follow Ulfric to the ends of Nirn, and if getting a little cold was what they had to do, they would.

"This seems to be it..." One of them slowed to a halt and dismounted. They were standing before what looked just like a rocky outcrop. "Er...there's nothing here."

"Hang on...what's that?" The fourth man slid off his horse and hurried over to something that looked rather out of place in the middle of all the snow – a long trail of scarlet.

"You don't think...?"

"This way." Cautiously, they manoeuvred alongside the 'path', grimacing slightly.

"By Azura!" The gasp sounded almost strangled.

The body of a blond Nord lay slumped against a boulder, blood seeping from a long gash across his throat. As one, their eyes rose up the rock before them; where, inlaid in the stone, was a black door.

"Talos save us." One of the men whispered.

"Talos can't save you now." A voice cut through the air.


	9. Ulterior Motives

**A/N: So sorry that it's really short - I just wanted to get this part up before writing the (hopefully) very long next chapter!**

* * *

"Four men, Galmar, they don't just disappear!"

"I told you, Ulfric, they're probably just lost in the snow – they'll be back."

Ulfric exhaled heavily, dragging his hands over his face in exasperation. "I'm going out there. Karia could get hurt..."

"Why do you care so much about a damn elf?"

"She's one of us, Galmar, I care for all my men."

"Yet you didn't ride out with the others to Dawnstar."

Ulfric's nostrils flared as he turned on his second-in-command. "How was I to know something would happen? But something _has _happened, even if we can't be sure what. I won't stand idly by and let a Stormcloak be killed!"

"If your worries are right, then you already have." Galmar held his leader's glare with a steely eye, but then sighed. "Fine, go, Ulfric, I can't stop you. Just remember you're doing this for the Stormcloaks – not yourself. If she turns out traitor, don't let personal feelings get in the way."

* * *

The fire devoured the logs, spitting and hissing at Karia as she sat by it. She felt sparks flare on her skin, but ignored them. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't run all her life. But she couldn't live in this abandoned bandit hole, waiting for whoever she ran from to find her. Because...who did she run from? The Stormcloaks? The Dark Brotherhood?

...Ulfric?

"Karia?"

Her head snapped up. Just a distant wolf's howl, carried and distorted on the wind...

"Karia?"

Probably just her mind playing tricks...

"Karia!"

Obviously it wasn't real.

Then the Redguard staggered through the trees, and she realised just how real it was.

"Nazir!" She screamed, leaping to her feet. Her fingers flew to her dagger's hilt, but then a smile broke across the man's face.

"You...have...no idea...how long...I've...been...looking...for you." He wheezed, doubling over.

"How in the name of Dagon did you find me? I swear, does everyone have some kind of magic compass that can pin-point my _exact_ bloody location?" Karia huffed, but then took pity on him and helped him sit down. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Nazir wiped the sweat off his brow and fixed her with a piercing gaze. "Karia...it's been nearly two weeks. We've heard nothing from you."

She shifted her weight guiltily. He hurried on. "Look, I'm glad that we haven't. Karia...oh, how can I tell you?" He took a deep breath. "The contract wasn't for Ulfric. It was for you."


	10. Scourge of the Gray Quarter

Karia's head snapped up. Even the flames seemed to cower, as an ominous silence fell around the small camp.

Nazir seemed to be looking anywhere but at her. "I'm sorry. Astrid sent me to find you, she said she needs to speak to you urgently – I think she knows who made the contract. I don't know if there's anything you can do, Karia. If the Black Sacrament really has been performed...Sithis is owed a soul."

The elf got to her feet, swaying slightly. Every nerve in her body pounded, and her vision was blurred. "I have to kill...myself?"

"Well...we may not follow the Five Tenets anymore, but none of us are willing to kill another family member." Hesitantly, he laid his hand on hers. She involuntarily shuddered, though his touch was warm.

She bowed her head, clasping her hands together and resting her thumbs under her chin, her interlocked fingers pressing her mouth. "How far are we from Falkreath?" She whispered.

"Less than a day's walk as the dragon flies."

A small smile played on Karia's lips. "It's a shame you haven't still got that costume. Well, I get there's not really any time to waste – it's funny...you know the end's coming. Life is just one great long tunnel...but I always thought there'd be light at the end."

* * *

"What is the music of life?" The rattling, unearthly voice still sent a shiver racing down her spine. Karia tried to keep her voice from shaking as she replied.

"Silence, my brother."

"Welcome home."

But as the great black door slowly swung open, the place she had once called home was gone.

Yet it was still there. Everything looked exactly as it had when she'd left...but completely different. The putrid stench of blood lingered on the air. Her footsteps echoed in the abyss of silence as she walked down the once-familiar steps. The sound of Arnbjorn scraping his sword against the grindstone set her teeth on edge; it sounded like thousands of voices screaming in agony. The gushing of the water, once so calming, was like a voice whispering urgently for her to save them.

"Where's Astrid?" Karia spun round to face Nazir, her arms folding across her chest.

"I...don't know." His eyebrows knit together.

"She left." Piped up a small, lisping voice. Babette had crept over to them, her eyes huge with...fear?

"Where'd she go?" Karia twisted a lock of her hair nervously.

"After you! She said that someone was after you...oh, Karia." The tiny vampire hugged her round the middle. "I'm sorry."

The dark elf realised she didn't want their apologies. It was _their_ fault her life was now hanging by one very fragile thread. This whole damned organization was the reason she was hunted...by herself.

"Do you have any idea where she actually went looking for me?"

Tears swelled in Babette's eyes. "To find Ulfric Stormcloak. It was him, Karia. He's the one who wanted you dead."

* * *

Karia's insides converged into one giant, writhing monster.

It didn't make sense. He'd never known her before. But then her memory honed in on one day, lurking in the deepest, darkest chasm of her memory.

* * *

_A body, barely more than a skeleton with a few strips of flesh still clinging to the bones, lay on the deteriorating bed. The sheets, moth-eaten and ragged, covered her in a desperate attempt to warm her. A young girl, about 15, with pointed ears sticking through her waist-length black hair, sat beside the bed, whispering "It's all right, mum. I'm going to find us some food. You just stay here; I'll be back as soon as possible."_

_She rose to her feet, casting one last hopeless glance at her mother's limp body. Wrenching open the battered front door, she stepped out into the merciless cold of Windhelm._

"_Get lost, elf, we don't want you here!" Rolff Stone-Fist yelled as she passed, sticking a finger up at her in an obscene gesture. Biting her lip, Karia ploughed on through the blinding snow. _

_Night had already settled, and she saw, to her dismay, that the market had closed up. Not even a scrap of meat was left lying around – no one trusted the dark elves._

"_What are you doing, skulking around in the dead of night?" A guard asked indignantly, walking up behind her. She gave a start, wheeling round. _

"_Nothing!"_

"_Well, keep it that way. And, for your own good, keep your filth away from the Palace of the Kings." He turned and stormed away. Karia 'pulled a Rolff' at his retreating figure._

_But then her eyes lit up with an idea. The Palace of the Kings. Perfect._

_The great entrance doors creaked loudly in the silence, but she slipped between them quickly and shut them, wincing as she did so. Everyone seemed to be in bed. _

_Delicious scents of food already wafted up her nose and she eagerly followed the trail down a steep flight of steps. She forgot that she had to be sneaky; she forgot she wasn't supposed to be there. All she saw were piles of meats and vegetables laden upon the tables, and she felt the hunger gnawing inside her. Her fingers scrabbled at a sumptuous rabbit's leg, but as she raised it to take the first bite, a hand clamped down on her shoulder._

"_What do you think you're doing here, elf?" The voice, though a whisper, seemed to thunder with irrepressible anger. Her tiny body shaking, Karia turned to look into the livid face of the Jarl of Windhelm – Ulfric Stormcloak. _

_The meagre foodstuff slipped from her hand and rolled across the floor. "Get. Out. If I ever see you again, you'll be sorry."_

_She didn't need to be told twice. Scurrying like a terrified rodent, she sprinted out of the palace, not stopping until she reached the Gray Quarter. There, gasping for breath, she pushed open the door of her house._

_The last thing her mother saw was her daughter's face, stricken with tears, as she said through sobs "I'm sorry, mum."_

* * *

But Ulfric would see her again. Very, very soon. Just not as Karia. She was Lili, the Dragonborn. And it seems he realised.


	11. The One with the Shadows

A surging volcano of hatred erupted inside her. Blood boiled in her stomach, a raging inferno pounding to be released. Her feet begged to run, fuelled by the desire that seared inside her – the desire to kill.

But she had to stop herself. Who knew where the monster lurked? Behind shadows, in the darkness unknown...

Her eyelids were tugging themselves shut, her body groaning with agony. How long since she'd last slept? The emptiness and blackness of night reminded her too vividly of one thing – the Void.

Her mind strayed longingly for her horse, back in Windhelm, as she staggered out into the frost-ridden air. Her legs dragged themselves forward, willing yet unwilling at the same time, when she heard the distant sound of screaming. Terror creeping into her bones, she turned to set her eyes upon it. No...it couldn't be!

* * *

_Born of the shadows,  
Where ne'er sun nor goodness shines,  
The silent demon waits for the call of its master.  
Torn from the shadows,  
Bidden to slavery for eternity and trapped in binds,  
The forsaken beast waits for the call of its master.  
One with the shadows,  
Sworn to those of wicked minds,  
Shadowmere awaits the call of a master._

* * *

Black as death with eyes red as blood; the aura around it whispered pleadingly with the voices of those imprisoned by its one true master: Sithis. It stood still – silent. The grotesque steed shook its long mane, the scarlet stones inlaid above its muzzle gazing down expectantly at the elf. Karia ran a hand along its silken hair, quivering slightly. "Where's Astrid?" She whispered.

Shadowmere gave a slight shake. Karia's eyes widened. Could it understand her?

"Did you leave her?"

The horse inclined its head slowly.

"Take me to her." Karia braced her hand against the saddle. In response, Shadowmere lowered itself slightly. The dark elf didn't take time to wonder how on Oblivion a horse could comprehend what she meant – she was past doubting the impossible.

The mount flew like an arrow from a bow, barely visible as it cantered across the turf; as if it were borne on the wings of some ill-forgotten God.

* * *

Whiterun passed in a blur, the barren planes freezing into the ice-smothered tundra of the Pale. The cobbled stone path disappeared beneath the ebony hooves that struck against it.

"Dawnstar?" Karia whispered under her breath. Her hands entwined tighter around Shadowmere's rein.

* * *

The unforgiving chill of The Pale clawed against Karia's skin, and she wished she could turn back – the thought of a bed soothed her aching muscles. But if finding Astrid would mean revenge on Ulfric, then she would bear the bitter colds.

Words couldn't relate the wrath she felt against that Nord. He had lorded over Windhelm, enjoying the luxuries of life and turning a blind eye to the plight of the elves. Why should he care? He kept them in the city, "safe" from the "dangers" of the outside world – that was a joke. The worst torture was keeping them locked up like monsters in a freak show, subject to the vindictive ways of the "sons of Skyrim".

That was what this war was really about. Who cared what dumb God could or couldn't be worshipped? They did it anyway. All Ulfric wanted was power; power to force the "scum" from his land...and power to stop them from being able to fight back.

When she was starving, where was he? What happened to his façade of being everybody's friend? The one who cared about everyone else who called Skyrim their home? Where was he?

He wasn't there.

Karia's stomach convulsed, bile rising in her throat as she thought of how she'd let him violate her...and how she'd enjoyed it.

* * *

As these dire thoughts swarmed in her mind, she suddenly realised Shadowmere had slowed to a halt. The horse gave a snorted against the cold then let out a gentle whinny, its head jerking towards something Karia hadn't seen before: something that looked rather out of place in this isolated wasteland - a black door.

Karia slid from the saddle, her feet hitting the ground with a loud thump that echoed eerily in the silence. As her hand lifted to push the door open, a voice hissed from it. "What is life's greatest illusion?"

The voice, so startling familiar, made Karia leap back in alarm. She wheeled around to Shadowmere, who stepped towards her. It leant its head against Karia's neck. As a strange warmth radiated from it, Karia heard something that almost caused as much fright as the door. A deep, rumbling sound resonated from the horse, and it sounded eerily like the words "Innocence, my brother."

Karia took a deep, shaking breath, turning back to the door. Her voice trembled as she said "Innocence, my brother."

There was a moment's silence. Then...

"Welcome home."


	12. The Ugly Truth

**A/N: Really not that happy with this chapter...but I don't know. Please tell me your thoughts! **

* * *

The door shut behind her with a snap like a bone cleaved in two. Then all fell silent.

Every breath seemed to resonate from the oppressing stone walls, her footsteps sounding like cannon blasts against the hush.

Bookshelves were pushed haphazardly against the walls, their contents ruined and disintegrating. Dust crept up her nostrils from the thick blankets that lined every surface.

Something was wrong. This place was desolate. Empty.

Where was Astrid?

Had Shadowmere tricked her?

As she reached this conclusion, fear suffocated her and she ran back to the door, throwing her weight against it...but it wouldn't budge. It remained tantalizingly still. She was trapped.

* * *

"Karia!"

The voice rang out, seeming to come from her mind itself. She barely contained a scream, staggering back as it spoke again.

"Karia, help! He's here!"

She knew that voice. No...Astrid!

Her pulse raced as she took in her surroundings. Spatters of red were strewn across the floor, glinting maliciously at her.

Breaking free from the binds of terror that ensnared her, she ran. He could take her, but he would never, ever take her family!

As she leapt down the stairs two at a time, she heard a blood-curdling scream pierce the air. No! She wouldn't be too late!

Suddenly, the blood trail ended. Slowly, Karia raised her eyes. What she saw nearly made her heart stop.

Ulfric Stormcloak.

"Where is she? What have you done with Astrid?" Karia screeched, unsheathing her dagger like a bolt of lightning.

The Nord made to speak, but all that came out was a strange choking sound. His mouth hung open, the gagging noise still rumbling in his throat. His eyes seemed to glass over. Karia lowered her gaze to his stomach...where the blade of a dagger was inlaid.

As his body slumped to the floor, someone carelessly kicked it aside. Karia realised who it was a heartbeat before they raised their mask.

"Hello, Karia, dear." Astrid smiled.

* * *

"You!" She gasped, the weapon in her hand clattering to the floor as she stumbled backwards.

"Yes, me." Astrid plucked her dagger from Ulfric's back, wiping the shimmering blood from the blade. "Tell me, Karia...do you feel betrayed?"

"B-betrayed?" She stammered. "I don't understand!"

"Soon, you will know how I felt when I found out. Did you really think you could keep it a secret all this time?" The blonde woman advanced, keeping a tight clutch on the hilt of the Blade of Woe.

"Keep what a secret?" Karia felt herself slam against the wall, not able to retreat any further. Astrid pursued her like a bird of prey. The latter bent down and lifted something from the floor. Karia saw the familiar black spikes flecked with scarlet. She tried to move her arms as the blade neared her throat. She had to get it away from her...if it touched her...

"Hmm...Daedric." She sneered, raising her gloved finger and holding it dangerously close to one of the prongs. "Well, Karia? If I were to touch this...would anything happen to me?"

Karia swallowed, a lump constricting her throat. "I...I don't believe so."

"Oh, really? So it wouldn't send me into an enchanted sleep that would conveniently make me look like I was dead?"

The wall behind her gave way...or was it her legs? All Karia knew was she was slumped on the ground, her eyes wild. "How did you find out?"

"Our little family serves one person – me. And as such, they tell me everything. So, while you thought you were being sly and underhand, asking Babette for the recipe for a sleeping draught was perhaps not the best idea. She scurried back to me, like the little rodent she is, and told me all about it! From then on, I monitored you closely...and the answer presented itself. You should know by now not to trust anyone, Karia."

Karia shook her head slowly then lifted her gaze up to Astrid, fixing her with a burning glare. "You want to know why I did it? How can you kill, without feeling, without remorse? You're a monster!"

Something hot seared across her face as the Blade of Woe slashed down. Warm blood dribbled down over her cheek, but she ignored it. Astrid's face contorted with rage. "We welcomed you into our family." She spat.

"Welcomed me? Do you forget what you did?" Karia rose to her feet, shaking, not from fear, but from boiling rage. She wrenched her dagger from Astrid's grasp and clenched it in an unyielding grip. "You forced me! You would have killed me otherwise!"

"And where would you be without us? The truth would have gotten out about your murder eventually. Then where would you run?"

"You've ruined my life!" Tears of rage cascaded over her face, seeping into the gash and stinging excruciatingly, but she ignored it.

"Oh, but darling, that's what I meant to do." Astrid gave her simpering smile, stroking the side of Karia's face. "I had no use for you...but I thought Sithis might."

"You had no use for me..." Karia turned the words over in her head. Slowly, like pieces of a jigsaw, they fell into place. As she laid the last tile, she realised. "You made the Black Sacrament!"

"No, really? Did you think that Sithis would not see your actions? You might as well have made the Black Sacrament yourself!"

"So you gave me the contract to kill myself because I wouldn't murder innocent people?"

"The Black Sacrament isn't performed to make friends with your targets! What part of "the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear" suggests that we should invite them to tea parties? Anyway, you shouldn't be angry with me. I'm upholding your, er, methods – I never said you had to murder yourself. Just ruin yourself so much that it devours you – and the Void will take you as its own."

"You're sick!" Every second that passed was dragging out the time she had to claim revenge...she couldn't bear to move her eyes to the lifeless figure beside her. The dagger in her hand twitched, desperate to finally plunge itself into a heart and drown in blood.

"Not sick. You wrote your own destiny when you toyed with the will of Sithis. No one tricks the Dread Father."

"Just explain something to me. Why send me traipsing across Skyrim to join the Stormcloaks?"

"Killing two birds with one stone. I wasn't lying when I told you that Ulfric is, indeed, hunted by Sithis. I thought you may have liked the revenge...clearly, you liked something else."

Karia stifled a gasp. "How do you know about...that?"

"I know everything." Astrid caressed the blade of her dagger lovingly. "Although, you did rather complicate things with that buffoon, Ralof. I half thought you'd fallen in love with him...but no harm done. He was easy enough to...dispose of. The sea was rather useful."

"Dispose of?" Karia's hand flew to Astrid's throat. "You killed him?"

Astrid gasped for breath. "Yes, I killed him. Not before I ripped that cord of your life, though. You must have felt something when you found my little letter and realised he was 'betraying' the Stormcloaks. And that he 'knew' who you are. That was the first thread, plucked from beneath your eyes without you even realising. And you just grew weaker. Now, only one thread remains to be broken..." her eyes settled on the hulking form of Ulfric Stormcloak.

As Karia's gaze was diverted, Astrid sliced her hand, freeing her throat. Karia screamed as blood soaked her sleeve, gushing from the gaping hole where her index finger had once been. Pain roared through her, blinding her vision.

Clumsily, she fumbled for the hilt of her other dagger. It wobbled in her grip as she pulled it out, only being supported by three fingers and a thumb. She knew that the end was coming...but she couldn't, she wouldn't, let it be her end!

"Haven't you all ready broken that?" Karia winced against the throbbing, feeling utterly spent.

"No. I decided to take a leaf out of your book." Astrid rammed her toe against his body. Karia made to stop her, but what good would it have done? "And now, I will make you watch as I kill him once and for all. And then, I shall leave you here to rot."

Ulfric remained immobile, and Astrid slowly raised the Blade of Woe high above her head. Any second, it would come lashing down...

* * *

"FUS RO DAH!"

The thunderous Thu'um erupted from Karia, igniting a fire in her eyes that burned white-hot as she saw Astrid's body fly across the room, hitting the wall with a sickening crunch.

Raising her good hand, Karia stepped towards the Nord woman, who cowered at the sight of the Dunmer, blood-stained and battle-worn, advancing on her.

"You will pay for what you've done to me." Those were the last words Astrid ever heard, before Karia threw aside her Daedric dagger, forced the Blade of Woe from her grip and plunged it straight into its master's heart. Astrid's body convulsed, and then fell limply to the floor.


	13. To Be or Not to Be

Lurching back, Karia watched the blood spill down her hands. Every breath, every heartbeat...she'd just stolen from someone. But she'd deserved it.

She fell to her knees beside Ulfric, brushing his dark blond hair from his face. Then, she let out a shriek as she saw his wide, staring eyes blink.

"Karia!" He gasped, crawling his hand across the floor to try and reach her. She could hear the last few heaves of breath in him.

"No! Don't leave me!" She grabbed his hand and clenched it tightly. "Please...don't make me too late."

A crimson puddle was seeping across the floor from his stomach, the stench of poison entwining with it. The wound was too deep, the venom would only keep him alive for a little longer.

"Lili." He whispered, his body twitching.

"Yes. I'm her. I'm who you think I am. I'm the Dragonborn."

"I...I let you starve. I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter now. You can't leave me – not before I leave. Otherwise I'll be bound to him, forever. There's only one chance." Karia's fingers inched towards her dagger, her other hand still enclosed on his, blood pouring over his palm.

"No!" Ulfric pushed his torso up with all his strength, lunging out and trapping her hand. "You're not going to."

"I don't have a choice. I have a debt to pay to Sithis – but I'll rip the Void apart before I let him take you."

"Lili, you were sent to kill me. And...after what I've done to all of your kind, to you...why are you trying to save me?"

"I thought I wanted, for the first time, to kill you. Then I realised there's a thin line between love and hate. Everything in my life seems to have been a lie, but you...you're the only real thing I know; because it isn't easy loving you. But this web that Mephala's spun between us...I won't let it be broken."

Ulfric smiled slightly. "Before you left...I had a dream about you. It felt so...real."

"That's because it was. I went that night to kill you...but I guess I got a little distracted." She gave a small laugh.

"It was real? Then..." his eyes travelled down her body, a hunger in them. Karia felt colour flood her face. Before she could react, though, he let out a strangled gasp, his stomach convulsing.

"No!" She yelled, diving for her dagger as she saw his eyes starting to roll back into his head. As he drew one long, rattling breath, she plunged the blade straight through her heart.

Everything went black.

* * *

**_To be, or not to be, that is the question:__  
__Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer__  
__The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,__  
__Or to take arms against a sea of troubles__  
__And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,__  
__No more; and by a sleep to say we end__  
__The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks__  
__That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation__  
__Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;__  
__To sleep, perchance to dream—__ay,__there's the rub:__  
__For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,__  
__When we have shuffled off__this mortal coil,__  
__Must give us pause—there's the respect__  
__That makes calamity of so long life.__  
__For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,__  
__Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,__  
__The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,__  
__The insolence of office, and the spurns__  
__That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,__  
__When he himself might__his quietus make__  
__With a bare bodkin?__Who would fardels bear,__  
__To grunt and sweat under a weary life,__  
__But that the dread of something after death,__  
__The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn__  
__No traveller returns,__puzzles the will,__  
__And makes us rather bear those ills we have__  
__Than fly to others that we know not of?__  
__Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,__  
__And thus the native hue of resolution__  
__Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,__  
__And enterprises of great pitch and moment__  
__With this regard their currents turn awry__  
__And lose the name of action._**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Poem is from Hamlet - William Shakespeare - I don't own it!**_  
_


	14. Requiem for a Dream

There was nothing. Or...could she just see nothing? Reaching this conclusion, she opened her eyes – though it did very little. She seemed to be standing...well, not exactly on something, because that would imply there was a thing there. But there was definitely some form of matter beneath her feet...else she'd be falling.

If someone had asked, she would have said the impenetrable air around her was black...but looking closer, it didn't actually seem to have a colour. Not one that she could describe, anyway. She could still see herself...though she got a bit of a shock when she saw she was naked. She clutched at her chest then remembered there was no one there. Yet...it felt almost like someone was watching her.

Taking a tentative step forward, she let out a scream and dived back as the nothingness shook and morphed into something – stairs.

Taking a deep breath, she put her foot on the first step. Nothing happened. What had she expected would? The next step, then the next step...

* * *

It was a seemingly uneventful climb...until she looked back and realised she hadn't even moved up one step. Or...had the nothingness just swallowed the rest up? Fear creeping into her veins, she quickened her pace. Yet, suddenly, a bout of fatigue overwhelmed her and she stopped, gasping for air. As she stared up above her, she saw no end. All there was were stairs rising endlessly up into the abyss. Surely it would be easier to turn back, find some other way?

She turned.

* * *

A face, more terrible than anything she could have imagined in her darkness nightmares, was inches from hers. It was sunken and ashen-white, the sockets where its eyes should have been empty, bleeding holes.

Her scream stuck in her throat. It raised a wasted hand, enclosing around her neck. Her lungs constricted as they struggled to find oxygen.

Then, suddenly, it disappeared. She stood, paralyzed with dread, staring at the void below. The Void below...

* * *

Spinning around and dashing up the steps, she heard only her jagged breathing and the slap of her feet against the stone. Until she heard something else: a blood-chilling scraping.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. A figure was crawling behind her, its rotting hand outstretched to close around her ankle.

The stairs seemed to steepen impossibly. She tried to run but her legs gave way and she felt herself falling...

* * *

Falling...

* * *

An icy pair of hands wrapped around her in a loving embrace as she was dragged down into the depths...

* * *

A blinding light erupted before her. She felt herself pulled away from the suffocating grip and she heard a long, piercing scream.

"You're not taking her, Sithis. Sovngarde awaits its hero." said a loud, rumbling voice. It filled the entire Void, shattering the nothingness and filling the air with a dazzling brightness.

A strong pair of arms tightened around her and she saw the world around her burst into a thousand lights.

Then everything fell into place. She blinked.

* * *

She was there.

Staring up at the star-strewn sky, a beautiful blend of every colour imaginable, she whispered "Thank you, Shor."

She lowered her gaze to the Halls of Valor.


	15. The End of the Beginning

Ulfric struggled across the floor, gasping in pain as he stretched the wound. His fingers brushed along the dagger's hilt stretching out of Karia's chest; blood spilled, hot and sticky, over his hands as he pulled it free. Just as he lifted the blade in a shaking hand, he heard a voice.

"No, Ulfric."

He shaded his eyes as a blinding light appeared before him. Slowly, the dazzle faded and he saw..._her._

She wasn't human - she seemed to be made of air. She glowed brighter than a torchbug, her feet only skimming the ground. As he stared in awe at her, the smile - more beautiful than any other - spread over her face.

Karia stretched out her hand. Hesitantly, he entwined his fingers with hers. Her touch was...he couldn't tell if it were warm or cold. It seemed to be both, at the same time. It didn't feel solid, either...sort of like he was holding water.

"They're waiting for you, Ulfric." She said, taking his other hand and staring up at him. Her eyes were no longer a bright, burning red, but pale gold. "I don't care where we're together, if it's this life or the next. I'm not afraid of death if you're here."

"But..." his voice trembled and cracked as he looked over at Karia's body, lying motionless on the floor beside him. "Are you...dead?"

"It doesn't matter. Death won't part us." and she stretched up and kissed him.

The heat of her mouth melted away every spark of fear inside him. He held her as if he never wanted to let her go. Every single thing he'd ever felt – the hunger for revenge or the rush of victory – it was nothing like this. Oblivion take any who said love was only for the mortal plains! He wouldn't ever stop loving her even if she were banished to The Deadlands.

As she broke away, he still felt her warmth burning inside him. Her eyes locked on his and then slowly travelled down his stomach. He followed her gaze and saw...

The hilt of a dagger jutted out his flesh. Her hand was still wrapped around the pommel.

He waited for the excruciating rush of pain to come...but it never did.

She clutched him tightly as the world around them tore apart, breaking yet fixing at the same time – almost instantaneously they stood back on solid ground.

Ulfric realised where they were before he opened his eyes. He could hear the voices rose in a celestial chorus. He could smell the intoxicating scent of mead.

The true High King and the Dragonborn were welcomed back to Sovngarde as heroes. They came back to their fathers – for though Karia was an elf, she felt nowhere more at home than right beside Ulfric.

Though history books and bards' songs will tell the tale for years to come, no one will ever truly understand the legend of the Assassin and the Jarl.

* * *

_**To ****have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.**_

* * *

**A/N: and so we reach the end...I hope you've enjoyed this! Thank you so much for reading! **


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